


the failure of Tony Stark

by WhimsicalEthnographies



Series: Up Came the Sun [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter is a Little Shit, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Lives, a bit of underage drinking, assembling toys after christmas, because it's christmas, the only injury is to Tony's pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalEthnographies/pseuds/WhimsicalEthnographies
Summary: “No,” Peter rolls his eyes, but hands the piece back and leans over the edge of the couch to pick up the instruction manual.  “It says there should be five of those thingies.”“Well, I only have four.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Up Came the Sun [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1097577
Comments: 13
Kudos: 171





	the failure of Tony Stark

**Author's Note:**

> A little day-after-Christmas-drabble because I got stuck in another story I started like, back in August then got derailed on because the pandemic got worse and now I'm working so many hours it's actually starting to show in my electric bills because I'm never home to use electricity. 
> 
> Just something to get the juices flowing because I actually have three more days off. This follows the EggNog and Tums timeline.

“Okay, wait…” Tony throws down the instruction manual and searches the carpet around him. His back cracks when he turns to look behind himself. “There’s supposed to be another one of these...do you have one of these?” 

“No,” Peter doesn’t even look at him, his eyes still trained on the TV. The kid has barely moved since Morgan went to bed and his aunt and Happy retreated to the apartment above the garage. Pepper is doing something in the kitchen with the massive pork bone left over from yesterday’s dinner. He’s _supposed_ to be helping him.

“You’re not even looking,” Tony smacks his side. “You’re the worst assistant.”

“I never agreed to be your assistant,” Peter pushes himself up on one elbow, but reaches out to take the tiny metal piece from Tony. 

“FRI, you recorded that, right? For the next time this little shit wants to go work in the lab?”

“Okay, I was in here first, then you just walked in and sat down and announced you were putting that thing together. You never even asked if I would help you.”

“It was implied,” Tony holds out his vibranium hand to take the tiny piece back. “Now, do you have one of these?”

“No,” Peter rolls his eyes, but hands the piece back and leans over the edge of the couch to pick up the instruction manual. “It says there should be five of those thingies.”

“Well, I only have four.”

“I think one is extra?” Peter flips through the manual. “It only shows using four. I think.”

“It does?” Tony leans over and peers at the manual. 

“I think?” Peter repeats and flips a page, then another, then flips back. “These are terrible instructions.”

“I know. And it’s bullshit because this thing wasn’t cheap.”

This Thing is a motorized robot pony Morgan can ride around the house and yard, now that Tony’s chairs are unnecessary and in storage. And This Thing came unassembled, because Tony was sure Iron Man could assemble a toy. 

“Why didn’t you just build one yourself? You built me a controller I wouldn’t accidentally smash?” Peter nods towards the entertainment center, and the new Playstation 7 next to the TV. Little does Peter know building a Spider-proof controller--the kid goes through controllers like Tony used to go through suits--was a cakewalk compared to actually procuring the damn system. He had to cash in one of many favors Jim Ryan owed him from both before and after his miraculous recovery. 

“Because after the Fairy Drone Incident last year I’m not allowed to build anything for Morgan anymore.”

“Why?” Peter props his chin on his hand, watching as Tony tries to twist a screw with what has to be the most poorly constructed allen wrench he’s ever used. “It wasn’t dangerous or anything...it just...flew into the fire. I thought it was funny.”

“And according to Pepper, it scarred Morgan for life. So I’m not supposed to build her any more toys.”

“That’s boring,” Peter yawns and flops back down on the couch.

“Yes, it is. And now I’m stuck trying to put together a 3000-buck toy pony while the worst assistant in the world watches some exploitative documentary on cults and refuses to actually assist me.”

“That piece of shit was $3000?!”

“Yes! Which is all the more reason someone should be helping me put it together.”

“Honestly, Tony, I think it might be more confusing if there were two of us. So many tiny parts and such.”

“Uh huh,” Tony reaches behind himself and smacks Peter again. “If you’re not going to actually assist me, Worst Assistant in the World, at least go get me some cookies and eggnog. Two shots of rum.”

“Pepper said I’m not supposed to give you anymore cookies. Or eggnog. Or rum,” Peter yawns again, stretching his arms above his head. “She said you ate too much the past two days already.”

“Which is why you need to get it now, because she’s not in the kitchen right now. And if you get me some, you can have some.” The kid’s already had real eggnog the past two nights, and if Tony was asked, he’d bet his aunt already gave her blessing before she left the cabin. May has been downright indulgent this entire goddamn year, and has been far more likely to look the other way when Tony and Happy push boundaries. Only Pepper seems to have maintained any fortitude with either of the children.

“You’d let me have some anyway,” Peter sneers, but he pops up off the couch and heads to the kitchen. “But if Pepper asks I’m not lying to her. I’m telling her you coerced me. I’m pretty sure she knew I let you cheat last year.”

“Oh, she knew, and I’m the one who got in trouble for it. Remember, two shots in mine,” Tony turns towards the kitchen, his back cracking again. “Only one in yours!”

“Yeah, fine.”

Tony rubs his forehead, turning back to the mess in his lap and the mess spread out on the living room floor in front of him. “Okay, I think I need one of these…” he murmurs to himself, reaching for a new blister pack full of tiny, _tiny_ washers and gently, _gently_ starting to peel it open. “To go on one of those…” the pack pops in his hands and half a dozen of those tiny, tiny washers explode all over the carpet. “FUCK.”

“What?!” Peter calls from the kitchen. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing.” Tony’s head is starting to hurt. “Just hurry with the eggnog.”

******************

“I will pay you $5,000 to figure this out and put it together,” Tony smacks the manual down on the carpet and pinches the bridge of his nose. Over the past hour he’s managed to get one whole hindleg assembled. “Right now.”

“So it would end up being an $8000 pony? Tempting, but, nahhh,” Peter rolls over, punching the massive floor pillow he dragged to the couch to lean. “I’m in the will and watching you right now is worth a lot more than five grand.”

“I can’t believe you’re disrespecting me like this. In my own house, after everything. _And_ I can’t believe you’d disappoint your little sister like this.”

“I’m not the one who spent $3000 on a toy then didn’t spring for the extra 50 bucks to have it delivered assembled. You could have put a bow on it and everything. I would have looked nice under the tree,” he gestures over to the massive Christmas tree that has piles of unwrapped gifts under it. Tony’s gift from Pepper sits in front, and elegantly framed photo of Peter and Morgan in a snow fort they built after the first heavy snow of the year. Peter’s gift to him, a tiny microchip he’d put together in secret himself that will allow Tony’s right eye to see ultraviolet light, sits next to it in a small, stainless steel box. 

“I can’t believe this is what will defeat me. I defeated a Titan. I built myself a new eye and ear. I _invented time travel!”_ Tony spikes the allen wrench to the floor. Okay, maybe he’s a little drunk and a little tired and has a little indigestion from the roast pork he’s been eating cold out of the fridge all day. But the point still stands. “And I’m going to be felled by a children’s toy!”

“Yeah, this is 10000% worth more than $5000,” Peter snickers, but pushes himself up on the couch and leans over Tony’s shoulder “I’m sure the guy who saved the universe will eventually be able to figure out how to put together a horse toy.”

“I built an arc reactor in a cave,” Tony turns to look at Peter. He’s starting to get legitimately embarrassed on top of being frustrated. And he can’t even blame his lingering injuries anymore. 

“I know, Tony, I read the book,” Peter nods seriously--this goddamn kid--then reaches around him to grab the instruction manual from the floor. “I mean, these instructions suck. We could probably do it better without them.”

“Oh, I thought you weren’t assisting me,” Tony responds, grabbing the instruction manual back.

“Well, I’m not _tonight_. I’m too tired and full. But we could try tomorrow,” Peter hooks his chin over Tony’s shoulder, watching as he angrily flips through the pages in the manual. “And we could ask Happy to help.”

Tony snorts. “He’d probably take over and insist on figuring it out himself.”

“I know,” Peter says very seriously, as if that was his original idea. “And then you can see how fun it is to watch someone try to put together a $3000 toy pony with a shitty instruction manual.”

“That does sound appealing,” Tony nods and crosses his arms. “And it’s not like there’s anything on TV two days after Christmas.”

“Right.” Peter sits back into the couch. “Except this cult thing. Which I have to start over because I’ve been watching this disaster.” Peter gestures to the mess of parts on the living room floor.

“You’re a little shit,” Tony chuckles, but he leans back against the base of the couch. 

“Yeah. Can I have more eggnog?”

“No,” Tony side-eyes him. “How many shots did you put in yours?”

“Just one,” Peter shrugs. “Like you said.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “You can have half of one. If you get me another one.”

“Is Pepper still in the kitchen?” Peter lifts himself up a little, craning his neck as if it will help him see around the corner into the kitchen.

“No, she came in, shook her head, and went upstairs like forty-five minutes ago.”

“Ugh, it still creeps me out that you can swivel that thing to look through your skull,” Peter shivers, but pushes himself off the couch. 

“It was your idea, Spider-baby,” Tony shrugs, and stretches his legs out on the floor.

“No, it was a joke, you’re just weird,” Peter laughs and stomps towards the kitchen. 

“Get me more cookies too,” Tony calls, tossing the instruction manual to the side. “I need to eat my feelings.”

“Eat your failures!” Peter laughs as he rounds the corner into the kitchen. “The failure of Tony Stark!”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry (day after) Christmas, ya filthy animals.


End file.
